


I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go

by Pegship



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Epistolary, Gen, Medical Device, Movie Spoilers, Post-Iron Man 3, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:06:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegship/pseuds/Pegship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Iron Man 3, thus spoilers.</p><p>Tony's hollow on the inside, like the Tin Man. But the Tin Man never had access to this kind of tech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go

**Author's Note:**

> Like so many, I'm dissatisfied with the glibness and brevity of the movie's ending, so I made up a possible explanation.
> 
> The title is from a Beatles song, "Fixing a Hole".

There was a story once, by Asimov I think, called "The Bicentennial Man". It was about an android who wanted to become human. He became respected, even revered, and managed to have various parts of himself replaced with more and more organic substances, skin, limbs, the works, as well as mechanical parts that mimicked human bodily functions. (Didn't mention my favorite, but that's Asimov for you - tease.) Eventually he decided to go all human and have his brain patterns altered so that his mind will ultimately die, just like us.

That's me in reverse. Kind of. I don't want to become a mechanical man. (Darth Vader is not my inspiration.) Still, why not use what I've got?

So, about this construct, in the middle of my chest cavity. It's made of the lightest, toughest material known to man - or at any rate, to me - a receptacle for the descendant of the device implanted by Ho Yinsen out of desperation. 

(I have no doubt that he expected me to die, that I was a convenient test subject, but I also know that he was genuinely glad that I didn't kick off. And not just for the sake of scientific curiosity.)

I don't need it any more, the electromagnetic part. Had the shrapnel removed, at last - let's not talk about the medical tech, security risks, hell, my personal paranoia that involved - so the arc reactor could go, too. Problem is, there's still this literal hole in my chest, like the Tin Man; we could replace the socket with a smaller one, allowing more space for important stuff like breathing and pumping blood and all. We could make the replacements increasingly smaller, in theory, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a medical experiment.

So I had one made that was lighter and of a smaller circumference than the first, one that didn't need the hardware of the previous model. The smaller model is the one I had when I woke up post-operation. No shrapnel, no RT, a closed container, no blue light special (Pepper took possession of the reactor as soon as it was out). And the difference half an inch made was - phenomenal.

What nobody but me and Pepper knows - and now you - is that the socket still serves a purpose. Our story is that it was filled in with something inert in order to avoid further trauma to my chest cavity. But you know, nature abhors a vacuum, and Tony Stark abhors a missed opportunity for gadgetry.

While recovering from the surgery, I've been living in my flat in Hong Kong (which once had a great view of the landing path for that crazy airport, by the way), no access to a workshop, but plenty of time to think and plan and design. And, thank God, access to JARVIS for support. Pepper makes sure I eat and sleep and exercise, so she's happy as a clam.

Now that I could build from the ground up, so to speak, I designed a bunch of gadgets to be installed in the new socket. Micro-versions of technology already developed, and, in some cases, devices that were still in development (at Stark Industries, of course). I managed to miniaturize the arc reactor even further, in order to power my electronic innards.

I know you're not "that kind of doctor", but in layman's terms, the devices may or may not include a GPS locator, emergency cardio or neural stimulation, communications transmitter in case the suit's systems fail, and a few other things I'd rather not try to explain even to a smart person like you. I won't need to get inside the casing - I can use the implants I created for Mark XLII to activate and operate the gadgets.

If you're still awake by now, give me a call back. This message will erase itself half an hour after you start playing it, so if you did fall asleep - well, I guess you'll never know the fun you missed, will you?

Just kidding, of course - you know I'd never pass up a chance to dazzle my science bro, right, Bruce?

Bruce?

**Author's Note:**

> "The Bicentennial Man" is indeed a short story by Isaac Asimov, found in many anthologies of his robot stories.


End file.
